


Promise Me a Place

by raziraphale



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: (Very mild), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Kiyondo Ishida, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Coming Out, Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, Flashbacks, Future Foundation (Dangan Ronpa), Genderfluid Fujisaki Chihiro, Hope's Peak Academy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Ishimaru Kiyotaka Lives, Kissing, M/M, Motorcycles, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Recovered Memories, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, don't let the tags scare you the tone is more... melancholy than depressing, mlm/wlw solidarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raziraphale/pseuds/raziraphale
Summary: “I don’t think these are regular dreams,” Kyoko said in her usual even tone.“That’s what I was saying,” Yasuhiro added “They’revisions.”Kyoko quirked a brow, gloved hand resting on her chin. “Well, either all of us are psychic and the dead can come back to life, or…” she paused deliberately, raising her eyes to meet the gaze of everyone at the table “… these are our school memories.”Kiyotaka Ishimaru had survived the killing game and was now, along with his remaining classmates, under the protection of the Future Foundation. However, in addition to his usual nightmares, Kiyotaka has started having dreams about his dead friends that he cannot explain...
Relationships: Asahina Aoi & Ishimaru Kiyotaka, Asahina Aoi/Ogami Sakura, Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 17
Kudos: 106





	Promise Me a Place

**Author's Note:**

> so earlier this month I wrote a short fic that ended with taka surviving the killing game and it got me thinking about about how he would fit in post-canon. I didn't get to the events of the dr3 anime like I intended but I had a lot of fun imagining how he and the other survivors would react to the return of their school memories !! I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> just a warning: I did not use the major character death tag because no one _actually_ dies in the timeline of this fic, but obviously the fic does reference deaths that took place in the game (including the person that dies in taka's place). so I hope this note helps you go in without any rude surprises
> 
> title comes from "house of memories" by panic! at the disco

Kiyotaka was so used to the nightmares that their simple absence was enough to set him on edge.

He could hear nothing but the wind in his ears, narrowing the world to just the person in front of him and the motorcycle underneath them both. Kiyotaka had his arms wrapped around a broad torso, pressed against a familiar jacket to protect his face from the wind’s bite.

The entire bike shuddered as it went over a small bump in the road. It was over in an instant, but Kiyotaka still felt himself tightening his grip. He could feel the other person’s laugh more than he could hear it, the sound vibrating through every point of contact between them.

“You alright back there, babe?” Mondo asked, yelling above the sounds of speed and traffic.

“I would be more concerned about yourself,” Kiyotaka shouted into the fabric of Mondo’s jacket, any sternness in his tone muffled “As you continue to insist on not wearing a helmet!”

A laugh. “And yours is diggin’ into my shoulder.”

“I’m so sorry!” Kiyotaka abruptly pushed himself away from Mondo’s back, though he still kept his death grip on the front of his jacket, hanging awkwardly at arm’s length.

Against his better judgement, Kiyotaka opened his eyes against the wind, looking around the city as they passed through. The sky was a bright blue, streaked with clouds that looked like cotton balls pulled apart by a child. The city streets were bustling with vehicles and pedestrians, eager to get home after school or work. Mondo weaved between them all, immune to gridlock and the rules of the road.

“Mondo –” Kiyotaka raised his voice in warning. He removed one of his hands with the intention of hitting Mondo on the back to get his attention on just how _reckless_ and _dangerous_ he was being when he cut himself off with an embarrassed yelp. Mondo had taken a sudden turn, causing Kiyotaka to wobble uncertainly in his seat and duck down once again into the safety of Mondo’s jacket. Kiyotaka pouted against the fabric as he felt the biker’s full-bodied laugh against his cheek.

Kiyotaka did not awake with a gasp. Instead, he came to slowly, chest aching and the details of his temporary living quarters still fuzzy in the dark. Even though the darkness was a constant no matter the time of day now, Kiyotaka knew it couldn’t be later than seven in the morning. It wasn’t like he was one to sleep in _before_ , but now his body wouldn’t let him.

_You alright back there, babe?_

Those words had gotten caught in his chest somewhere. He rubbed at it with one hand, but it did nothing to dispel the uncomfortable feeling.

It wasn’t that it didn’t sound like something Mondo would say, or would’ve said, rather. Mondo had had many… interesting words for women in his vocabulary. _Babes, chicks, broads, bit – (Bro, that language is not appropriate for a school environment!)_ But the dream still bothered him.

It was too real. It didn’t follow the logic of dreams, the rules of Kiyotaka’s usual nightmares. Dreams where schools and bears and blood and butter all melted together into a horrifying slurry that always had Kiyotaka gasping awake, his heart pounding a bruise on the inside of his chest and his pillowcase damp and sticking to his face.

Mondo had felt solid in his arms, and his motorbike had felt equally solid – not _stable_ , certainly, but _solid_ – underneath him. It had felt like a memory, but Kiyotaka was certain it hadn’t happened. It couldn’t have.

Kiyotaka balled his hands into fists and pressed them into his closed eyelids until colours bloomed against the dark. It couldn’t have happened.

~*~

Kiyotaka found himself going down to breakfast at seven every morning, even though he didn’t have to. There were no schedules anymore, but at this point he knew that maintaining his strict morning and night routines was the only thing keeping him going. Clearly, he wasn’t alone, because soon after he arrived at the small, cafeteria-like area near his rooms, his other classmates always joined him… eventually. Alone in the cafeteria, waiting for his friends to follow behind, Kiyotaka wondered if they heard the echo of those announcements in their heads, too.

The Future Foundation had them all under “observation” for the time being. While Kiyotaka had initially been indignant at their carefully constructed statements and their distrustful glares, he understood their logic. Despite all they had overcome, all the hope they’d mustered in their escape from the killing game, despair still clung to all the survivors of Hope’s Peak, and especially to the survivors of the killing game designed to create despair.

So, for the time being, they all lived in a small wing of the Future Foundation headquarters, waiting for… something. Kiyotaka wondered what they were waiting for. For them to recover? The place looked enough like a hospital, with the barren, nondescript rooms and the sterile cafeteria. Kiyotaka wasn’t sure if it were possible for any of them to return to how they were before, even if they stayed here forever.

Kiyotaka was startled out of that dark train of thought by the screech of a chair beside him. It was Makoto, sitting down beside him with a sheepish look.

“Sorry, Taka,” he said with a small smile. “You looked like you were somewhere else.”

Kiyotaka let his face relax, unknitting his brows into a slightly less intense impression. He returned his friend’s smile, replying with a deadpan “Unfortunately, I was not.”

Makoto laughed. It was sudden and short, like a cough, but it was genuine. Kiyotaka had gotten better at telling jokes. He supposed the end of the world had that effect on people.

Soon enough, one by one, the others joined them at their cafeteria table, and room was filled with the sounds of conversation. No one’s smiles quite reached their eyes and nobody seemed to be able to stomach more than toast just yet, but it was a kind of happiness nonetheless.

Still, Kiyotaka though about his dream from last night and rubbed absentmindedly at his chest. The ache was still there.

~*~

Kiyotaka was sitting in an empty classroom at Hope’s Peak. Well, empty save for Chihiro, who had pulled up a chair to sit across from him at the same desk. Chihiro’s eyes shone with unshed tears, eyes struggling to maintain eye contact with Kiyotaka’s intense stare.

“Remember when I told you all that I was actually a guy,” Chihiro asked, eyes resting somewhere over Kiyotaka’s shoulder “and that I wanted to live as my true self? To be strong?”

Kiyotaka wanted to give a reassuring nod, so Chihiro would know he was listening carefully, but he was so tense. When Chihiro had asked to speak to him alone, his mind had already wandered to all the reasons why Chihiro would need the help of the disciplinary committee. Whatever it was, it must have been serious. Kiyotaka managed to nod, but he knew it was perhaps too enthusiastic, even for him, when he felt his brain rattle a bit at the movement. Chihiro faltered for a moment, before continuing in earnest, finally meeting his gaze.

“It wasn’t… completely true,” Chihiro admitted. “Or, accurate, I should say. It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Please explain,” Kiyotaka said, encouraging but still a little bit too loud to be comforting. “I want to understand!”

“I don’t think I’m strictly either.” Chihiro’s hands clenched on the desktop, opening and closing in an anxious rhythm. “Guy or girl, I mean. Sometimes, I find myself closer to one than the other. Sometimes, a little bit of both. Sometimes, not too often, I don’t really feel like either.” Chihiro’s eyes had fallen again, focused on the table and avoiding Kiyotaka’s face.

“And how are you feeling right now?” Kiyotaka asked, finally succeeding in wrangling his voice into a neutral tone.

“Girl, definitely.” Chihiro’s voice was nervous but sure.

“I am honoured that you told me, Miss. Chihiro!” Kiyotaka’s voice boomed through the empty classroom like a burst dam. Chihiro startled, jerking her head up to see the genuine beam on his face. She couldn’t help but return it with a grin of her own, even as tears began to fall down her face.

“Thank you, it feels so good to tell someone,” she said, wiping at her eyes with damp sleeves. “I’m glad I talked to you first.”

“Why did you talk to me first?” Kiyotaka couldn’t stop the question falling bluntly from his lips. Even if he was proud of the friends he had made at Hope’s Peak, more than any he had ever made at his previous schools combined, it was still hard to imagine himself as someone people thought to come to about personal matters, let alone the first choice for such conversations.

Chihiro looked nervous again, worrying at her lip even as her smile remained.

“Honestly, I was a little worried at first,” Chihiro admitted, “You can be very black and white about a lot of things, so I wasn’t sure you would understand…”

Kiyotaka had to concede this point. Though, to be fair to himself, school rules were _clearly_ printed in the student handbook (as he reminded many of his fellow students daily), while the complexities of human sex and gender could hardly be bound by any sort of text. Life, (un)fortunately, required some ambiguities. Kiyotaka was still trying to figure them out.

“But I figured,” Chihiro continued “since you were the only other person in our class that was –” Chihiro looked to the side again, nervous “– well, you know, you would probably the most likely to understand.

Kiyotaka’s brows knit together in confusion for a moment before realization spread across his face, along with a blush. “How – how did you –?”

“Sorry, but I think everyone knows,” Chihiro confessed, giving him an apologetic look “Well, everyone except Mondo.”

It was a joke meant to lighten the mood, but Kiyotaka could feel himself growing redder with embarrassment. “Well, that’s probably for the best.”

Chihiro’s smile was bright and optimistic. “Hey, you never know,” she said, “You should try talking to him about it.”

Kiyotaka caught himself before he could shake his head hard enough to give himself whiplash. He thought of Chihiro, putting her entire sense of self on the line – more than once – in order to be the truest version of herself. He wasn’t immune to the inspirational quality of it.

“I will try.” His tone was maybe a little too solemn for the occasion, but Chihiro gave him a bright smile anyway, and it was all he could do to try to return that brightness.

~*~

Kiyotaka woke up to the sound of knocking on his bedroom door. It took him a long moment to identify the sound, still caught up his dream. The details of the dream didn’t fade like they usually did as he went through the motions of getting up. He could still see Chihiro’s face behind his drooping eyelids as he walked stiffly towards the door. It was… solid, like Mondo and the motorcycle.

The knocking came again as he took a moment to collect himself, scrubbing away a stray tear, before he opened the door to reveal Aoi.

“Sorry, Taka,” she began. She was still in her sleepwear, her hands fisted in the fabric of her pyjama pants, twisting and untwisting the fabric nervously. “I know it’s late but… do you think I could come in?”

Kiyotaka stepped aside wordlessly to let her in, still a little dazed. He didn’t bother to remind her of the inappropriateness of being in a boy’s room after dark. She looked shaken and it’s not like they lived by the student handbook anymore.

Aoi sat on his bed, simply out of the lack of other options in their sparse rooms. Kiyotaka sat down beside her, careful to keep a respectful distance between them. Even after everything he’d been through – everything they had all been through – Kiyotaka had not gotten any better at comforting people in crisis. He could never seem to say the right things in the right tone and he never knew what to do with his hands. Taking a steadying breath, Kiyotaka decided to focus on one thing at a time. He stared resolutely at the opposite wall, hands folded in his lap, and began.

“What’s wrong, Hina?” he asked, before hastily adding “Are you alright?”

“I’m – I’m fine,” Aoi answered, betrayed by the wobble in her tone. Kiyotaka could see movement in his periphery as she wiped at her eyes. “It was just a dream but… I wanted to talk to someone about it.”

“I know what you mean,” Kiyotaka admitted to the wall. He’d be surprised if any of them were unfamiliar with nightmares at this point.

“No, you don’t understand.” A blur to his side as Aoi shook her head. “It wasn’t the same… it was a good dream… I think.”

“A good dream?” Kiyotaka’s mind strayed to the back of Mondo’s motorcycle. “What was it about?”

“It was… Sakura was in it.” Kiyotaka felt a dull ache in his chest at the mention of their deceased friend, as he did with every little reminder of the killing game. Sakura and Aoi had been close – he couldn’t imagine what she must be feeling. Then again, maybe he could.

“It was before the Tragedy,” Aoi continued carefully “Or in the future, maybe. Dreams are funny like that, I guess.”

“But we were going for a morning run around Hope’s Peak. I had forgotten the sky could be that blue,” she said wistfully. She paused for a moment before continuing. “Then we stopped in some grass in the courtyard to do some exercises before going back inside.”

“I had finished my sit-ups, but Sakura could always do way more than me,” Aoi laughed, but her voice was hollow “So I went over to cheer her on.”

“I – kneeled on the grass by her feet, with my hands on her knees,” Aoi’s voice had gone so soft that Kiyotaka felt his eyebrows knit in concentration just to catch her words. “And when she sat up for the last time, she – she kissed me.”

Before Kiyotaka could say anything in response, Aoi let out a sob, and he realized she had started crying. He looked over to see her face completely obscured by her hands, her shoulders shaking with emotion.

“It was like – it was like we’d done it a hundred times,” she continued, her voice muffled by her hands. “It felt so _real_ , and _normal_ , and I –” She turned to face Kiyotaka, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the intense look in her eyes. “Why would I dream something like _that_ when she’s – when I can’t –” Aoi cut herself off with frustrated noise, letting her head fall into her palms again. “Thinking about what can’t happen makes it worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Kiyotaka said, not knowing what else he could possibly say. He raised his hand to try to offer comfort, but it hung awkwardly in the air for a moment before he placed it on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry too,” Aoi replied, dropped her hands into her lap. She didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I bothered you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I don’t know anyone that doesn’t consider you a friend,” Kiyotaka said, trying to maintain a bright tone. He was being honest. He couldn’t imagine any of their classmates disliking Aoi – even Toko’s usual muttered insults never seemed as cutting in her presence.

“Thanks Taka, but,” she turned to him with a sheepish smile “I was a little scared, y’know? I trust everyone here with my life but… I wasn’t sure how’d they react.”

“You’re awkward, but you’re sweet,” Aoi added with a well-meaning laugh. Kiyotaka could feel his face heating up, but couldn’t bring himself to be offended. “And I knew you of all people would understand.”

“Why?” He couldn’t keep the confusion out of his voice.

She looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. “Because you’re gay?”

“How did you know that?” Kiyotaka had raised his voice without realized it, and immediately clamped his hands over his mouth. He narrowed his eyes, angry at his own lack of volume control.

Aoi opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, a confused look passing over her face. “I thought I remembered you telling me or something, but I can’t think of it now.” She hummed to herself, biting her lip in concentration.

“When would I have told you that?” Kiyotaka couldn’t even remember spending any one on one time with Aoi, let alone spending any time talking about something so personal. He hadn’t even told – he ended that thought before he could finish.

“I don’t know!” She shook her head as if trying to jostle the memory free, but she stopped with a sigh. She turned back to him with a smile. “I still knew, though. Call it my gay intuition.”

“I don’t think that exists.”

“Does so!”

Kiyotaka returned her smile, but he quickly looked away, feeling overwhelmed. His dream echoed in his head, brain hazy with the feeling of déjà vu that swept over him. Was this how Hiro felt, when he had his visions, the thirty percent that actually turned out to be true? He tried to focus his gaze on the opposite wall again, feeling dizzy.

“Thanks for listening, Taka,” Aoi said, voice soft, pulling Kiyotaka from his thoughts “It’s nice knowing that I’m not alone sometimes, y’know?” She leaned over and patted his thigh with a casualness Kiyotaka envied. “If you ever need to talk you know where I am, okay?”

Kiyotaka nodded, still not moving his eyes from the wall. “Thank you.” He meant it.

Aoi squeezed his thigh in acknowledgement before getting up from the bed. He listened as she let herself out and padded quietly back to her room. He was alone again, but he didn’t want to sleep.

~*~

The unreality of nightmares was almost comforting when they returned, but that feeling did not last long.

Kiyotaka was back in the class trial, but his eyes refused to focus on anything around him. His classmates were talking, but the sound was distorted, as if Kiyotaka were underwater. He decided to float there, waiting for it all to be over.

Then, suddenly, someone was calling his name, and everything snapped into painful focus.

“Taka, please say something!” Makoto begged. His face was strained. Kiyotaka wondered how long he’d been trying to get his attention. “Did you kill Hifumi and Byakuya?”

He registered the names with a dull surprise. _Hifumi and Byakuya are dead?_ Kiyotaka’s eyes darted around the room and, sure enough, both their podiums had been replaced with portraits defaced with a crude X. It made sense – why else would they be having a trial? He hadn’t been here since –

“I _told_ you,” Celeste interrupted his train of thought, her voice impatient. “He doesn’t have an alibi, and he has a motive. It seems silly to bother asking him about it, no?”

“What motive?” It was Aoi talking now. No, more like shouting. “Taka couldn’t hurt anyone, especially like _this_. Just look at him! He’s been through enough.”

“Ah, but are we not all capable of the unthinkable in grief?” Celeste suggested, covering her slight smile with a dainty hand. “Hifumi was a rival for Alter Ego… and maybe for someone deep in denial, Byakuya still seemed a likely suspect in Chihiro’s murder. He did mutilate the body, after all.” Celeste gave a delicate shrug. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Taka, please,” Makoto tried again, and Kiyotaka found himself frozen in his gaze. “Tell me you didn’t do this!”

Kiyotaka tried to answer – to tell him he couldn’t have – that he would never – but the words got caught in his throat. He gagged on them, tears streaming down his face. Could he say with any certainty that he hadn’t done it? He didn’t remember much from the past few days, nothing since the last trial. The days spent in his room alone and lurking near the bathhouse trying to catch a moment with Alter Ego blurred together into a haze. Could anything so horrific be lurking behind it?

He tried again to open his mouth, to tell Makoto, to tell anyone who would listen, but his mouth remained closed and tears streamed down his face. Maybe he had forgotten how to speak, after days of going without. He looked to each of his classmates, trying to plead with his eyes, but their gazes shifted uncomfortably to the side, avoiding him. They thought he was a killer.

The voting passed in a blur. The fanfare of Monokuma’s slot machine sounded throughout the room, each wheel spinning to reveal his face, but no prize came. Instead, a single spotlight illuminated a podium, confetti fluttering to Celeste’s feet. Her hands did nothing to stop the hysterical laugh – tinged with desperate relief – that tumbled from her mouth.

Chaos erupted in the courtroom, but Kiyotaka couldn’t hear what anyone was saying. He was underwater again. Distantly, he heard as betrayed cries and accusatory shouts turned into screams of terror and pain. Before he knew it, a metal collar had snapped around his own neck, and he was dragged down, deeper into the water. He still couldn’t scream. He opened his mouth, but only air bubbles escaped. All he could do was inhale water.

Kiyotaka woke up in his bed, coughing, sputtering, and drenched in his own sweat. He could feel a pressure on his back, as if someone –

“Taka, can you hear me?” It was Makoto’s voice. Kiyotaka rolled over to face him, his body still seizing with every hurried breath. Kiyotaka met his eyes, and Makoto was kneeling at his bedside, smiling with visible relief. “Oh good, you’re okay. I got up to get some water and I thought I heard you choking.”

_I was_ , Kiyotaka doesn’t say. “It was just a bad dream.” His voice sounded like he hadn’t spoken in weeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kiyotaka paused, letting his breathing even out. It left behind an ache in his chest or, rather, the ache hadn’t left, trapped there despite his desperate coughing. “What made you think I didn’t do it?”

Makoto furrowed his brows for a moment before understanding flashed behind his eyes. “In the third trial?” Kiyotaka nodded silently. Makoto smiled at him, and the pain in Kiyotaka’s chest eased just a little. “I believe in my friends. It always leads me to the right place eventually.”

“I’ve never had friends before,” Kiyotaka admitted. It felt less pathetic to say in the privacy of the dark.

“It’s okay,” Makoto assured him. “We’re not going away. You’re stuck with us now.” Makoto laughed, and it was awkwardly sincere. Kiyotaka was grateful for the sound.

~*~

Their time under “observation” stretched out behind them and ahead of them, interminable and indefinite. It may have been weeks or months since their escape when Yasuhiro finally spoke up about his most recent visions over breakfast.

“Now, I didn’t wanna worry you guys,” Yasuhiro said, leaning over their table in the cafeteria with his palms spread flat on the surface “But I’ve been havin’ the same sorts of the visions pretty much every night since we got here, so I think it’s safe to say now that _some_ of them must be true.”

Yasuhiro was obviously excited, but the rest of them exchanged uncertain glances, still wary of the merits of his talent. Even so, there was definitely a curiosity palpable in the air, and Yasuhiro was basking in it.

“Alright, I’ll just come out a say it,” Yasuhiro said in response to nobody “I don’t think our friends are actually dead.”

The resulting silence lasted only a second, but it passed with agonizing slowness.

“T-that’s not v-very funny,” Toko stammered out. Kiyotaka couldn’t tell if her body was shaking with her usual anxiety or with suppressed rage. “Why w-would you say something like that, you – you –”

“I’m not messing with you,” Yasuhiro insisted, waving his arms defensively. “Hear me out. I’ve been having these visions every night. Dozens of ‘em. And in all of them, I’m doing stuff with our friends. _All_ of them.” Kiyotaka couldn’t remember the last time Yasuhiro’s tone had been so serious. “None of the visions have happened yet, obviously, but that means a least some of them _have_ to happen. So, ergo, they gotta be alive! My thirty percent accuracy never fails.”

Yasuhiro’s smile was so infectious, Kiyotaka wanted so badly to believe him. He sounded so proud of his discovery, so happy that the impossible might be true. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

“I’ve… been having dreams like that, too, Hiro,” Aoi began, gently “About stuff that never happened, with… them in it.”

Yasuhiro’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Dude, you never told me you were psychic, too!”

Kiyotaka shook his head, trying to shake off the last lingering sense of hope. “No,” he began, “I’ve been having dreams like that as well.”

“You _too_?” Yasuhiro was clutching the sides of his head, clearly overwhelmed by this revelation. Before either Kiyotaka or Aoi could try to dissuade him, Kyoko spoke.

“I don’t think these are regular dreams,” Kyoko said in her usual even tone.

“That’s what I was saying,” Yasuhiro added “They’re _visions_.”

Kyoko quirked a brow, gloved hand resting on her chin. “Well, either all of us are psychic and the dead can come back to life, or…” she paused deliberately, raising her eyes to meet the gaze of everyone at the table “… these are our school memories.”

“That’s not possible,” Kiyotaka found himself saying before silence had the chance to settle.

“Oh?” Kyoko prodded “How so?”

“Because,” Kiyotaka thought of the feeling of his face pressed against Mondo’s back, of Mondo’s voice saying _You alright back there, babe?_ , of the bright blue sky overhead “Because it’s not possible!”

“How persuasive,” Kyoko responded flatly, and for a moment Kiyotaka hated her.

“So, you’re saying,” Makoto began carefully “The memories Junko took from us are coming back?”

“Precisely,” Kyoko smiled, but it had a bitter edge to it “The human brain is a delicate thing. You can’t change it with any kind of certainty.” She sighed. “I doubt our memories returning is intentional, but it’s still awfully… convenient for Junko that they should return after everything. I guess she got the last laugh.”

The silence settled over them for good this time. No one dared contradict Kyoko’s assessment, too focused on mentally sifting through their recent dreams, deciding which ones were genuine and which the flimsy creations of their subconscious. Kiyotaka didn’t have to think too hard. He knew which dreams had felt real, but his surety was not a comfort. He felt ill.

~*~

Kiyotaka was approaching the gate to Hope’s Peak when he heard now-familiar sound of a motorcycle behind him. He turned at a heel and, sure enough, Mondo had just rounded the corner. He was obviously going well above the speed limit and his helmet was nowhere to be seen, but when he caught sight of Kiyotaka and smiled – big and unabashed and reaching all the way to his eyes – Kiyotaka couldn’t help but smile back.

Mondo’s bike lurched to a stop right in front of the gates, and in one smooth motion dismounted and put down the kickstand. Still grinning, he approached Kiyotaka.

“Mondo,” Kiyotaka sighed, all fond exasperation “You can’t park your motorcycle –”

In three long strides Mondo had closed the distance between him and cut Kiyotaka’s admonishment off with a kiss. His hands were fisted in the collar of Kiyotaka’s uniform, pulling upwards to close the gap between their heights.

Kiyotaka lost himself in the kiss for only a moment before his sense of duty took over. He pushed Mondo off with both hands, palms flat against the biker’s chest. Kiyotaka wasn’t strong enough to move him on his own, but Mondo backed off anyway with a frustrated noise.

“Taka…”

“Public displays of affection cannot be tolerated in a learning environment,” said Kiyotaka matter-of-factly “No exceptions.”

Mondo rolled his eyes, and Kiyotaka could feel his arms relax where Mondo still gripped his collar. “We’re not even _on_ school property yet.”

Kiyotaka blinked, looking around. Sure enough, they were both still standing on the sidewalk, a mere foot away from the gate that marked the entrance to Hope’s Peak Academy. Kiyotaka gave a sheepish smile as he made eye contact with another student, who made a show of sidestepping them and their rather… obtrusive position in the middle of the path. Kiyotaka felt his face grow hot. “So we are.”

Mondo laughed, and it carried so much affection in it that Kiyotaka thought he might burst into flames.

“So how was your summer break?” Mondo asked, not leaving Kiyotaka’s personal space at all.

“Productive.”

Mondo shook his head, but he was smiling. “Of course you would say that.”

A beat. “I missed you, though.”

Mondo’s face softened. “I missed ya, too.”

Kiyotaka lowered his gaze, suddenly unable to meet Mondo’s eyes. “While we’re still standing here, outside the school,” Kiyotaka tried to sound casual “I wouldn’t mind if we… maybe resumed –”

Kiyotaka was cut off once again as Mondo ducked his head, capturing Kiyotaka’s lips in a kiss. Mondo was clearly trying for tender, but Kiyotaka returned the kiss with his usual enthusiasm, unable to not throw his whole body into the motion.

It was Mondo who broke the kiss this time. “C’mon,” he said reluctantly, turning towards the gate “You wouldn’t want to be late for class.”

Kiyotaka beamed at him. “I am so happy to hear how much you value our education.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Mondo dismissively, cheeks colouring “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

As they walked towards the school, Mondo grabbed Kiyotaka’s hand, holding as long as he could get away with it. Kiyotaka let him.

Back at the Future Foundation, a very different Kiyotaka woke up in the dark, tears streaming down his face and his chest caving in on itself.

~*~

As if encouraged by their revelation, the dreams increased exponentially, until every morning the ache in Kiyotaka’s chest seemed to grow. The memories seemed to no longer be limited to dreams, either. Sometimes Kiyotaka would catch a glimpse of something oddly familiar, or someone would say something _just so_ and the disused synapses in his brain would suddenly fire, making him see double. The image of his time at the Future Foundation with the other survivors was being overlapped with images of his lost high school years. It made Kiyotaka’s brain hurt from the strain of double vision and his heart feel heavy with ghosts.

“I wish I could just forget again,” Aoi confessed one night. They were in her room this time, sitting together on her bed and putting off sleeping for as long as they could. She shook her head. “No, I don’t mean that. That’s not fair to them.”

Kiyotaka wondered if fairness had anything to do with it. He felt like he was mourning two completely different sets of people. Was it “fair” to the Mondo he knew in the killing game – the one who called him his brother, patted him on the back just a little too hard – to just grit his teeth and suffer as memories of a time before – a time when the sky was still blue and Mondo snuck kisses between loopholes in the student handbook – flashed behind his eyes? How could Kiyotaka honour a memory that wasn’t shared?

“Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t survived,” Kiyotaka admitted, as quietly as his voice could manage. It still felt too loud, his ears ringing at the sound.

“Taka…” Kiyotaka turned to look at Aoi, but her face is an indistinct blur. He wiped his eyes with balled-up fists. Her face, when he looked up again, was not horrified or pitying, but sympathetic.

“I almost got everyone killed in there,” Aoi said carefully “And it’s probably the worst thing I’ve done in my life.” Hazy memories of the fourth class trial surfaced in Kiyotaka’s mind. Aoi crying in anger and grief. It had felt too familiar.

“Even if, sometimes, I wish I hadn’t made it either,” Aoi continued “I’d much rather live with that, though, if it means the people I love are still alive, and I’m still alive to make things better. It’s the least I can do for our friends that didn’t make it.”

“That’s very… admirable, Hina,” Kiyotaka responded dully.

Aoi rolled her eyes and him and sighed, but her smile betrayed her fondness. “You’ll make things better, too, Taka. Just you wait.”

~*~

Kiyotaka was in his dorm room, trying to study, but his eyes kept catching Mondo’s movements in his periphery. Mondo was pacing the length of the room with restless energy, and Kiyotaka fought the urge to scold him into sitting back down. It wasn’t Mondo’s fault that he couldn’t focus. Kiyotaka stared down at the textbook open on his bed with renewed energy. He’d been on the same page for ten shameful minutes.

It was technically after hours, but for some reason the Hope’s Peak Academy student guidelines specifically forbade female students from entering the rooms of male students after curfew and vice versa. They were definitely in violation of the _spirit_ of the rules, but if his relationship with Mondo had taught him anything, it was the satisfaction of sometimes walking right along a line in the sand, knowing that it pissed people off more than actually crossing it. It was ideal compromise where Kiyotaka could pat himself on the back for maintaining his squeaky-clean record, and Mondo could continue to stick it “the man” which, in this case, was just a very tired and exasperated Headmaster Kirigiri who just wanted his students to go to bed.

“What are you planning on doing,” Mondo started, breaking Kiyotaka from his train of thought “Y’know, after all this –” He waved his hand vaguely. “ – school shit.”

“Language,” Kiyotaka said automatically, without reproach. He frowned at the question. It was usually the other way around, with Kiyotaka bothering his boyfriend constantly about planning for his future. “You know what I’m doing.” He rattled off his plans with little effort – the elite universities he would apply for in order of preference, the many possible entry points into politics, contingency upon contingency accounted for. His plans for the future had been set for as long as he had been aware of his family legacy (if such a word could even be used), and he knew them by heart.

Mondo waited for him to finish. He was still standing in the middle of the room, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “No, I meant,” Mondo tried again “What about us? What happens to… us, when this is over?”

“Well that is up to you.” Kiyotaka put down the pen he was using to take notes just a little too hard, creating an ink spot in the margins. He was getting annoyed now. “If you would just tell me what _your_ plans are, it would be much easier to change mine to accommodate you. It’s not very considerate, you know.”

“Whaddaya mean, change your plans?” Mondo disbelief was audible. He didn’t seem to realize how loud his voice had become.

“Well, I’m hardly going to pursue a career in a city that’s on the other side of the country from wherever _you_ are,” Kiyotaka raised his voice to match. He huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “I have contingency plans for the reason, but I would much prefer if you gave me time to prepare.”

“You’d,” Mondo paused. The tension had left his shoulders, leaving him standing awkwardly over Kiyotaka without a reason to argue. “You’d change your plans for me?”

“Yes?” Kiyotaka said like it was obvious. It _was_ obvious. He didn’t know what Mondo was trying to say and it frustrated him. “What did you think I was going to do?”

It was that question that seemed to get at the heart of the matter. Mondo didn’t respond for a long moment, and Kiyotaka began to worry he hadn’t heard him. It was possible. Mondo looked a little distant, his eyes unfocused. When Mondo finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I kinda just thought… we’d graduate an’ go our separate ways.”

Kiyotaka could feel his world begin to crack. “Is that… what you want?”

“No!” Mondo’s shout almost had Kiyotaka jumping from the bed. Instead, Mondo rushed over, brushing Kiyotaka’s study materials to the side so he could sit across from him. Kiyotaka resisted the urge to comment, instead watching as Mondo bit at his lip, gathering his thoughts. “It’s just I figured it wouldn’t be smart to have me around if you’re serious about bein’ a politician. I’m kind of a liability.” His laugh was self-deprecating.

Kiyotaka nodded in understanding. “Because of your criminal record.”

Mondo looked at him like he was an idiot.

“Oh… that.”

“Yes, _that_.”

Kiyotaka looked to the side. He knew he was pouting, but he couldn’t control his face. “I can hardly bring more shame to my family name by doing something that shouldn’t be shameful to begin with.”

“I know, I know,” Mondo assured him, but his voice sounded tired “Still, you should think about whether you can see yourself being prime minister or whatever, with your high school boyfriend still with you.” Mondo had placed his hands on Kiyotaka’s crossed legs while he was talking and was rubbing a thumb across his knee absentmindedly. “I’d love to be there. ‘Course I would. But it’ll make things a hell of a lot more difficult.”

“You don’t have to be my boyfriend,” Kiyotaka could feel his face getting hot, but he pushed through the rest of his thought before Mondo could get the wrong idea “The point of being prime minster is to change things for the better. Maybe, you could be my…” Kiyotaka let himself trail off. He couldn’t say it.

Mondo had, somehow, become even more red in the face than Kiyotaka had. “Are you asking me to…?” He couldn’t seem to say it either.

Kiyotaka coughed deliberately, trying to expel the awkwardness. “That, of course, depends on your future plans. You should work on those so I can plan accordingly.”

“Yeah…” Mondo said, still red in the face “I’ll... do that. I have time.”

As far as they knew, they _did_ have time. They were still seventeen, and life beyond Hope’s Peak was full of possibilities. Nothing had yet been set in stone. Whatever happened, it was certain that their graduating class was destined to make the world a better place, in any way they could.

And, as Kiyotaka and Mondo lay down to sleep, cramped together on the bed in Kiyotaka’s dorm, Kiyotaka Ishimaru woke up once again in his bed in the Future Foundation. Alone for the moment, maybe, but he knew his friends slept just as fitfully in the neighbouring rooms. They all still had _so much_ they could do. The pain in his chest was still there, but it had lessened, just a bit. It ached dully with every beat of his heart, a reminder that he was still alive.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading I hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> if you want to come join me in the return of my dr phase please visit me on [ tumblr ](http://raziraphale.tumblr.com) xx


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